Lume
by Eleahleh
Summary: If in event, life can become much more, richer, falling from a grace far beyond decadence, maybe a dream can wake us all.
1. 1 Lume

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Lume  
  
Summary – If in event life can become so much more, richer, falling from a grace far beyond decadence, maybe a dream can wake us all.  
  
Disclaimer – I don't own a Frikkin' thing, (Apart from my characters Zephaniah and Messiah in this 'prelude') and I wouldn't have it any other way.

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Prelude....  
  
The light had never felt so tragic before. It had always been so renewing, so life giving, so strengthening, but now... always so scarce.  
  
There was darkness. So much darkness that he'd felt. Almost as if he'd been engulfed in a spiral of delusion, as if when insanity took over talking to a surreal figment seemed more real than enduring the pain, of talking within the mind. That's why furiously mumbling to oneself, distracting from the pain, can relieve such torment.  
  
Anything to keep away the voices.  
  
No one had ever told him about the lifeless shadows, nor was there reason too, for this place was never seen among those of human kind, only of his kind, which in some ironic state, he wasn't sure of... but only remembering the fight was worth its derelict end, and feeling rather empty about the hole in which the rest of his life had fallen into. He had to forego this alone. It was as if someone had split his mind in two, the conscious being where he was now, and the subconscious, an unknowing abyss that was his former life.  
  
He was determined, through blood, to find out exactly what it was.  
  
No one told him about the kind of darkness he would experience. It talked to him, and the meaning of reply meant your life, or more, you're purpose. The mind had been pushed through onto all sorts of levels of consciousness within the machine world before ongoing to the realm where he was meant to go. His stance, for his worth in this land, was a sincere and timid deathly calm, a calm that is only felt within reason of fulfilment. He had stood spirited and made firm through meeting all, the former anomaly's in the Matrix.  
  
This did neither, strengthen or dishearten him. They all came from the same source, they were all connected, all brothers, all blessed with powers beyond what was normal and all intelligent sources of wisdom, that all had separate and deeply pointed discussions about the purpose of existence and their roles in the world's destruction or beginning, giving their departing opinions of how life should be lived and how The Matrix, may or may not be apart of it. Most deemed themselves worthy for worship, and bragged endlessly about their times on earth, but none had felt more, or were chosen for the second coming.  
  
The 6th anomaly didn't care for this. He knew he was different to the others, and they made it known he was. He was a brother of his kindred and accepted for his various superior abilities, but all agreed that he was indeed, more human than they were. 

For they were the Hierarchy, the superiors that looked down upon the souls from above the heavens on the deteriorating earth and machine world, the ones who were blessed to have a refined and reverencial spirit after the sacrifice of their souls, yet not all of them were as pure as they're ransoms, no matter what sacrifice they made when the Matrix made its restart and sought out its new saviour. They were equals to the creator.

The 6th anomaly cared for the people he saved. His pure heart craved for the people he shared his former life with. He cared for the future and its further generations. He was tired of feeling nothing but the pure sovereignty of arrogance, day after day, after day. He knew what was to happen, but to intervene is to create travesty.  
  
He still had a purpose yet.  
  
And he was to persuade only one other of the anomalies that this was right.  
  
This anomaly was the alpha, and he was the omega. Hopefully he would be these two rolled into one... some day.  
  
Now he only felt self-loathing, darkness and regret as the the orange tinted sun rose through his sheltered lids. He could feel the rising heat as he saw the kaleidoscope of colours through the shallow skin of his eyelids. Its elaborate beauty of infinite colours filled his entirety, the sun was always a superior source, and had been greatly approved of by the Hierarchy. It was a god in its own right. No words or expression could describe the awe inspiring glare of the sun. How he loved the mixture of feelings, the confusion. Is this the medium? The in-between?  
  
He drew them back.  
  
His dark, almond shaped eyes held the light for a moment until he cast them down to his hands. So smooth, so youthful. Different to the mechanical parts the machines had provided him with before he was sent here.  
  
"Times now are so different to when you were in existence. Are you sure you want to go back there? Even without her?" the broad and husky aristocratic voice of the fair man beside of him made him numbly unable to speak. He spoke to him as though he were dead. In some small way he knew he was, although his mind stopped him from believing this.  
  
The man was well built donning a navy pinstriped suit, layered with velveteen trimmings. There was a deep charismatic atmosphere formed around this man, that left you feeling moved, or touched in some way or another, that his reasoning in logic meant you would end up questioning all you're secure and confident in belief.  
  
The trilby mounted over his choppy, straight blonde hair, dipped over his left eye, casting a shadow over his sallow face, once a handsome structured face filled with victory, now filled with self-righteousness.  
  
"I didn't come this far to feel sorry for myself."  
  
His throat tightened. Standing in the dark seemed to be his only purpose. He stepped forward into the breathless watercolour of the sun. The tepid glare of the dark suit he wore lit the dull wall, the reflective silken surfaces shone exquisitely. He could smell the musk of the silk suit he was wearing, he could almost taste the texture of its liquid smoothness against his skin. It flowed in rhythm with his heartbeat his body movements co-ordinating a natural pattern, the blood in his veins flowed like liquid fire against it. Nothing was ever like it. He missed it as much as he missed bodily contact.  
  
He ran his hand through his hair. It had been so long since he had taken on a physical form, his hair had grown since; the raven black tresses fell by his ears, straight black silken hair shone delicately. To feel the hair on his head, to feel the heat on his body, everything around him was a luxury.  
  
"And I'm not here to feel it for you." The tall suited man tilted his trilby, the long pitted scar following his right eye towards his mouth shone in the dull room. The man shifted himself towards the large horizontal window protruding the front of the room, the hypnotic view of the sun made them stare. The pull of the colours reached into their souls and ripped them right back down to their physical demeanours.  
  
The blonde man leant the palm of his hand against the wall to the right of him; he pulled back his two fingers clutching his cigarette, the smoke floating upwards in small clouds.  
  
The one stood tall and elegant. His intricately wrapped form slender, his pale, framed chiselled features as luminous and fresh as his younger days. Its as if they recorded every single detail from his youth.  
  
"Its not compulsory to help them." He inhaled his cigarette with some arrogance, and slowly blew the rancid smoke out of his short nose disgustedly, backing up his haughty tone, "You are one of the hierarchy, don't pull yourself down to their level." He commanded translucently, his eyes lowering.  
  
"I'll fall if I have too." His hazel shaped eyes narrowed and bored into the man's back. He didn't break the level of his voice; it churned into a short laugh. He knew and felt the hard glare of a higher guard since he was one. He cracked out a small laugh, this time lingering.  
  
"A fallen angel never gets what he wants, that's including you." The measure of his distinct clawing voice fell shortly, "Do you remember what its like to be human? Do you remember what destructive emotions run rampant throughout their lives? They're always so involved, so intrusive, Its always so... pointless?" white ash fell onto his grey trouser, he brushed off all he could and hissed at the blend result he tainted the suit with.  
  
"I've forgotten what its like to feel."  
  
"Think your self lucky for it," he told him faintly, "Join the field brother. We've all been there, don't waste your time on falling when you can taste the gods." The balanced figure of the man leaning against the wall turned back to look at the one, his figure as a glowing pure light, the twisted length of his back, held an authoritive stance.  
  
Look what he had become. A man writhing in his own self worth. For what? A world of a corrupted government being ruled by a corrupted ruler, But the Matrix wasn't even that. It was less than that, it's lowered degradation was worse than machine, Being ruled by machine, who had the power to judge who was righteous and who was unrighteous.  
  
Judging the unrighteous in this land couldn't be defeated.  
  
His startling blue eyes gazed at him with some ridiculous contempt.  
  
"Brother, I..." the one let the tips of his fingers glide down the fine black lace of his smooth suit, "I've forgotten her. I've forgotten who to feel for, I want to go without her, because her remembrance will be the only thing that will make the hierarchy for me, worth something." The one flitted his dark lashes. "Just feeling misery, just feeling would make me realise that there is so much more, that there is such a thing as a soul,"  
  
"You know that already." He flared his nostrils.  
  
"We're kings brother," the man added, his voice faded into the smoke of the room, "Kings." He repeated emphatically looking back in equal grace of the tearing smoke within his voice, the solitary eye contact they both gave each other felt timeless.  
  
"I know I still have a purpose." The one persisted.  
  
"Brother," the man hissed, "Your purpose dosen't have to be with them. The weak, the fragile, the human." He tapered, "Brother, please..." He protested.  
  
"I can't even remember her name... " He conceded, his voice teetering on the edge of insanity. The blonde man held his head in shame.  
  
"It's driving me mad," he paused and tried to describe his influence, his fore brow creased in thought, "Because I know there was something, there was definitely a focal point that fuelled my motivation, but for the life of me, I can't remember,"  
  
You could tell in his voice that he had given this deep thought, and the vicious circle was driving him literally insane. There was a short mellow silence until the blonde man interrupted it with a sigh of contemplation.  
  
"I'll tell you her name," he surrendered into the one's deep, soothing voice that seemed to manipulate him every time. The 6th one was blessed with compassion.  
  
The one leaned forward and breathed in, "I wish to taste it again, tell me." He urged. Turning to face him, the blonde man leant his back against the surface of the grey wall, his back ground against it. The man sighed, "Her name was Dana, Alias Trinity."  
  
"Trinity." The one pronounced with relish, its rush of contentment filled him like smoke through his lungs, eyes clamped shut with tormenting array of emotions. It hit him like a gunshot to his heart.  
  
"Did I love her?" he asked, his voice bellowed as the sharp intake of breath left him feeling scraped of emotions. The man inhaled his cigarette, caring not.  
  
"She was your lover, yes." He smiled, rolling the cigarette between his fingers.  
  
"Did I make love to her?" he asked with some detached under tones of eagerness.  
  
"Many times." The man huffed disgustedly, "Awful act that, mind, only the lower statutes voyeur."  
  
"That's not the reason why I want to go back," he told him firmly. The blonde man nodded, still unconvinced.  
  
"What did she look like?" The one's eyes were concreted shut.  
  
"Don't brother, it will only provoke you." The man threw down his cigarette, putting out the steaming butt with the end of his black, polished shoe.  
  
"I want to remember. Please... I want to remember, even if the misery takes me over." He pleaded, his face expressionless as the pale light.  
  
"If misery takes over, the feeling of death will overcome you, what do you think of death when you can have eternal life?"  
  
"I think it's worth feeling, it's better than not feeling at all,"  
  
"You don't know how lucky you are brother." He breathed, the sides of his eyes grimacing in astonishment.  
  
The blonde man smiled. His power had gotten the better of him.  
  
It was, him the very first messiah, the one that sought out the Matrix and decided its first fate, that kept all anomaly programmes and knew them solidly in and out. That was his job, and will always be, until the end. What other task would a former Messiah do with his spacious memory?  
  
"She was tall. 5.9. Slender. Blue eyes, black hair." He continued factually, "You didn't like her hair long so she kept it short, short and simple, that's the way she abided her life by."  
  
The one nodded, his red lips shaping into a small smile.  
  
"What did I love about her?" The one lamented. He could feel the words on his lips; the breath escaped his mouth, the memories as faint as mist.  
  
The blonde man snapped up his collar, "You loved her eyes, you loved it when you shattered that cold surface that she wanted everyone to believe she was. You loved her strong personality. The way she would know what you were thinking," he paused and tucked his left hand in his pocket, "You loved her passion for life." His melancholy tone turned into sadness, "Her passion for you."  
  
The one saw a figure in his minds eye, a soul mate?  
  
"Was she happy?" The one felt nothing when he said this, and wished so he would feel awkward by it. The blonde man shook his head, "Your really pushing it brother." He gave a solitary nod and pursed his lips, "None of the former anomalies have ever wanted to know about their past lives, they needn't know about their love interest's, their sex lives, their handsome faces... none have felt as strongly as you have, and the world has never been the same since you left. I don't know what to think of that," As the blonde man lifted the brim of his trilby, the one gave him a vacant look, with lethal demanding, equal in strength of course to him he wished he could refrain from it.  
  
"You couldn't of, made her a happier woman."  
  
The one cleared his throat. Now that he'd told him all of that, he couldn't help but feel unsatisfied. He thirsted for more, but knew he wouldn't get it, unless, he would of course experience it for himself again.  
  
"What about our people?" he floored.  
  
"Our people?" the blonde man laughed, "They're prospering. Procreating, making more generations. The more generations there are the more I want to intervene."  
  
"Do you remember them?"  
  
"Of course I remember them." He snapped. "I was alive even before Morpheus came into existence."  
  
"Morpheus?" The one uttered confusedly, as if it was an alien word.  
  
"The man that found you." The blonde man muttered, with a smirk.  
  
"He also found Trinity?"  
  
"Yes he did."  
  
"Is he still alive?" The one looked at him with a sense of innocence and concern.  
  
"Just." He paused, "He's got more than a few years left in him."  
  
"Sounds so morbid." The one sided.  
  
"That's what they're lives are all about, and you want to be one of them..." he chuckled cruelly.  
  
The one ignored him.  
  
"But with Trinity... its all so vague, I would-"  
  
Giving none but a second of hesitation the blonde man gave that patronising trademark laugh and settled his words, "She cannot be reconstructed, the hierarchy are the only ones who are stored, not humans." He snapped hastily.  
  
The one gave an impatient gasp.  
  
"Trinity will never be restored brother, even if you wanted her to be. She had her life, she was apart of the equation, and now its over, so is she and her purpose. And even if you wanted another companion, its certain her code wouldn't suit yours. There's a rare chance another woman would be suited to a distinct and hierarchy rank such as your self," he flicked his cigarette towards him. "Your one of a kind brother, and be happy for it," He raised his hand in unison, as if to salute him. The one raised his eyebrows at him self, he knew what he wanted.  
  
"But if you like that kind of thing, there are plenty of women to play with." He laughed. The one shook his head at him, "Your full of so much-"  
  
The blonde man cut through him like a knife, "-And even if you do go back, there's no guarantee you will have a place here saved as king, brother, please... just think this through."  
  
"I'm needed, I've been told-" Feeling wired, the one coughed and straightened his suit.  
  
"You'll have no guard down there. Oh, you'll have powers, yes, you'll have powers... but what are they against the fabricated ones who yearn for the kings, they all regretted bringing us here. They'll want you dead."  
  
"You don't believe I'll be killed?"  
  
"I have more faith in you than that Brother." He cleared his throat, the one raised his eyebrows cursedly and smiled, "But I shall not linger from the point, they all regretted keeping us alive, knowing there are superiors, knowing that we are here,"  
  
"What is here?" The one questioned him, feeling somewhat dubious, "Heaven? Hell? Nirvana? Limbo? Sheol? Gehenna? Take your pick, because I'm not."  
  
"Stop being so human brother." He took out of his pocket, a packet of cigarettes and offered them to the one. He shook his dark head plainly. "Your far too human to be a Hierarchy. Far too human." he mumbled to himself. 

The one focused his point on where he was to go, where his qualities would take him, where his human passion would take him.  
  
"I'm not finished yet." The one arched his eyebrow perfectly. "I'm going back." He walked forward suddenly.  
  
The Blonde man shook his head with a deep hatred.  
  
"You'll forget brother, you'll forget our time you'll forget our riches you'll forget us." The one stopped and turned his body askew to the fair man. His dark features blank.  
  
"You'll forget everything." Sadness serenaded his voice.  
  
"This place dosen't hold anything for me." The one whispered calmly.  
  
"Your selfish brother." He spat bitterly.  
  
"I need to finish what you started, Zephaniah," the emphasis gave him power within his voice that startled the blonde man, alias Zephaniah.  
  
"I'm afraid you can't do that Neo." The confidence he possessed made him feel nauseated.  
  
"There are no others." His dark gaze held no mercy, "Its anarchy, I have to stop this, stop the creator."  
  
"Our creator takes no prisoners." He breathed silently, "Its our purpose to stay here, stay as his equal, where he can't get to us."  
  
"Destroying him would end all of this, it would be an honour to kill him," Neo smiled.  
  
"You'll kill us all, it'll be pointless procreating of the human race, stop while your ahead brother, stop and taste forever." He finalised.  
  
"Trinity was forever." He insisted.  
  
"Trinity was a number Neo," Zephaniah clenched his teeth, "A number next to you in the equation, a number to make up the answer to the flawed programme of the Matrix. She was just a number added, she was never meant to be larger than life Neo, she wasn't meant for that." His words made him choke, "Take for example, like Deity was to me," He snorted, "She was only a number she was nothing more to me," He shook his head fiercely as if to make a point.  
  
"It's sad." Neo followed suit, his firm jaw clenched, "Its sad to only think love could be a number,"  
  
"You say these things and yet you do not even remember her."  
  
"The kings have poisoned your mind as well as mine."  
  
"Its for your own good brother, what are memories worth where we are?" Zephaniah held his breath waiting for Neo to answer.  
  
"Worth more than what we are. And what we eventually become," Neo carried on, ignoring Zephaniah's intent to speak, "Its sad to know only I took the chance to save the one I loved, out of five other 'numbers'" he floored, "You were the first to sacrifice love."  
  
"Did you not hear me?" his impatient voice grew louder, "I was the first to save Zion, I put sensibility ahead of passion," he jeered with a hated anger. "I built a society from the beginning, out of nothing, I followed the rules," he rolled his eyes heavenward, "Don't flatter yourself, with your love and your feelings, and your sacrificial lamb..." Zephaniah pushed back his trilby to reveal his pale, gaunt face.  
  
"I'm last, and this time, it won't restart." Neo went to crack the glass window. The sun was rising higher through the sky, lighting every inch of the room. Even if it was above the heavens, the sky was still as perfect as the day it was first created.  
  
"O brother." Zephaniah lamented. Neo turned his head.  
  
"Your love for the lower existence isn't wanted here." He said sharply. Neo stayed silent for a moment before replying, "The years you've been here have made you twisted in your own glory." Neo touched the glass, its liquid surface peering down onto the downtrodden world of the real, "I won't be coming back brother." He told him. Zephaniah pursed his lips slowly forming a sordid smile.  
  
"I know brother." He returned with a knowing, forlorn grimace, "Let this be the last time." Zephaniah stood back in bitter reminiscence.  
  
"I'll be watching you."

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"Its impossible." The short audible noise burst from the higher-ranking officer of the Artaxerxes.  
  
"Messiah, come look at this."  
  
He called out to the corridor as a lithe tall, olive skinned youth appeared.  
  
"What? What is it?" he asked warningly, placing himself in a seat beside Morpheus, seeing only the fear in the old mans eyes he turned to see what Morpheus was looking at. Stood staring blankly at the large formatted screen in front of him. Only one word could describe what he saw.  
  
"Neo."

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Authors note: This is my first shot at a fic... what do you think? The reviewers determine whether this should go further or not... don't be hard on me! 


	2. 2 Lume The Congregation

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**Summary **– If in event life can become so much more, richer, falling from a grace far beyond decadence, maybe a dream can wake us all.

**Disclaimer **– I don't own a bloody thing, (apart from the former anomaly's and the land above) and I wouldn't have it any other way.

The Congregation 

"I'm going to be civilised when saying this," Malachi rose to meet Zephaniah, his fleeting anger and flinched eyelids burning, "When did the gate define?" his voice raised ten fold.

The gate was a chamber that fell in between the heavens, the real of Zion and the inexplicable virtual of the Matrix. It only defined in its vision of the prophecy once someone was let free from the land above, only a hierarchy could escape and once they did its domain decreased, this was shown by the population in the land above, the code shrank and the gate was made smaller.

"It hasn't defined for a while now" Zephaniah raised his apparent head over, into the sanctuary of darkness, only the spiral of eternity, that felt solemn glory faded as it fell onto the land of the real.

The land above the heavens was like that of a black forest obscurely contrasted with golden leaves that sprawled over the darkened land like wires that spread their conquering arms over the fine soiled earth. Pure, white lights shone through them heatedly, revealing every fine line and curve of the lithe leaves that snaked their way into every hole and timid corner of the quaking land. They're faces couldn't be made clarified until only the thundering of the night sky, then only for a fraction of a second, beauty in itself was personified.

Their eyes were like the core of diamonds, and the diadems, symbols of their ranking, hung high on their foreheads, lips as gentle as that of swift winds, and their bodies that of white gold.

It was a dark land, although its white lights crowded its empowering air that was influenced by none other but by Malachi – the fourth anomaly that was blessed with long suffering. No other could control the weather in that bittersweet, morbid land.

The golden and silver carvings that were woven throughout the souls of the anomalies shone with an almighty radiance. Zephaniah placed his hand across a marbled bowl across the ground, filled with silver water that he manipulated to curl into obscure shapes. This part of the land was far out amongst the wild of the east where power was simply used for its competitive talent.

Malachi, the fourth anomaly followed pensively towards Zephaniah.

"I told you," Malachi shook his golden head towards Zephaniah and looked around, "It's changed. Zephaniah... what have you done?" His distraught voice rallied across the silver water with a great crack.

"How did you come to the conclusion that I had something to do with this?" Zephaniah straightened his head squared towards Malachi.

"Nahum saw you escape the domain with Neo. What have you done? Your code has altered... what have you traded?"

Malachi's angered words escaped his elegant mouth with a timid release.

"I traded nothing." Zephaniah stood up slowly the emphatic fire in his voice separated each word.

"Your code is different, it's dismissed and complex, you traded something. Your code is usually straight forward you have not traded your blessed wisdom. What is it?" Malachi started to attack him viciously with heated words, the wind swirled, and it rose and howled violently with his voice.

"If you must know," Zephaniah became impatient with Malachi he couldn't hear himself over the roaring winds, "Not that you should be concerned."

"Brother," he stopped and all the winds of the north, south east and west stood stunned, it stopped dead. Silent. "Of course I'm concerned." He breathed life into his surroundings as small flowers grew beside the small stream.

"What did you give away?" he asked silently.

Zephaniah pulled down his black, velvet hood to reveal his auburn head. His hair didn't glow a bright golden, instead a dull wash of mahogany.

"I gave away my approval." His, voice steadfast and vibrant.

"Brother." He gasped "Your approval means you're ranking," Malachi stepped forward towards him, each of his steps giving life, branches, silver leaves, golden vines thirsting and dying in his reverential presence. "They won't respect you for this Zephaniah," he outstretched his right hand and touched the ends of his auburn hair. The colour made him cower its darkness awe struck him. He hadn't seen such a shade in a century.

"I'm fixed rather blasé," he held his figure straight, "It dosen't matter." He replied.

"Listen brother, let me give you mine, you're the first of us all... you need this." Malachi pulled down his black hood, the silver whiteness of his hair shone as white flame. Zephaniah grabbed his hood and pulled it back over his head roughly, reaching for his hands Malachi gripped them, stopping them from going further.

"Brother, please," Zephaniah pleaded, eyelids fluttered as if mumbling a brief prayer, "I need not care about approval. I have given it to someone who needs it."

Malachi's eyes formed shadowed patterns, they scanned his soul, seeing all his freedom restricted, one, was lost.

"Neo's gone," his eyes never left Zephaniah's golden ones, "He's sought out the real... no one told me this... when was this planned? Who told him?" Malachi's eyes widened with every word he said, he was too foolish to realise that only one anomaly had enough passion and modesty to fall... and that was Neo.

"Who chose Neo?" Malachi breathed deeply and openly, as if disgusted.

"Ask him yourself," Zephaniah grasped his chest,

"Have the elders been told?" Malachi tried to catch him off guard.

"He asked the elders several years ago and they told him he had to choose for himself," Zephaniah confessed, "The elders wisdom is wider than ours, we have to respect it," he sighed "I knew he had to leave." Zephaniah ushered Malachi to walk beside him over the silver sands.

"None of us agreed to this... let's discuss this, maybe there's still time to get him back," Malachi panicked, although anger seemed to be the main factor.

"There's no time Malachi, he wanted this. Neo has felt his purpose is elsewhere, he dosen't believe he should be here with us."

"All the saviours should be here, they're hierarchy code is too powerful to sustain life in the real. He won't survive. He needs to live here, with all of us."

Zephaniah smiled cruelly. He knew, although Malachi was pure in heart, with several of the sins that insulated each soul came a weakness each were susceptible to, with each blessing came a sin, and his was as clear as day.

"Your jealous?" he simpered, "You, want to be him. You want to be human."

"You fool." He huffed; silver hair threading against the wind, "No one wants to be human."

"Everyone wants a second chance," Zephaniah saw Malachi's eyes grow deep with bitterness.

"Would you have done things differently if given a second chance?" he asked.

Malachi didn't express any emotion, "Maybe." He hesitated. "No."

Zephaniah could translate the hesitation he formed, he had known Malachi too long not to realise this.

"You're lying." Zephaniah laughed.

"I don't need to lie," Malachi thrust defensively, "I'm a hierarchy, I don't need to use the weak minded psychological terminology of humans." He breathed furiously, "You don't know the hatred I have for these kinds of inferior terms."

Zephaniah then realised what Neo had been trying to say all the time he was there.

It was true.

They had been writhing within they're own self worth. They were all enraptured within their own self-righteous world that they revelled in. And they did, with all indignant intent revel in it.

"Brother, we are better than that. We should look down upon the 6th anomaly." He joined his arm with Zephaniah's and patted his back reassured. "He doesn't come even a fraction to us. He can die, and I hope he does for leaving us all."

Zephaniah felt his heart burn for the 6th anomaly.

"Don't you ever talk like that about our brother," Zephaniah reeled the force within him and tore his arm from Malachi.

"You self assured Seraph." Malachi gasped at his insult.

"I don't deserve to be called a seraph." He howled back.

"The only reason why you speak against our brother is because you want to be him. You've wanted to feel ever since you came here. You've adapted to the lack of feeling so much that it's consumed you, it still consumes you and you hate it." Zephaniah spat with an insipid realisation.

Malachi smiled wickedly, he shook his head expressionless, his, hollowed eyes darkened with a possession not even the most disturbed of lands could conjure up. The weather fell cold and biting under the detached calmness Malachi enslaved "We are all brothers. I am just making a distinction of who's superior. You cannot argue with me that the sixth anomaly is the most powerful of us all?" his laugh as demonic as his features. Malachi walked on, his voice lowering as if to tease him, "Neo is human, he was always human, does it not insult you?" The grotesque disgust in his voice when repeating the word 'human' was as if the possession of the word heralded a satanic release.

"Does it not insult you that we were in the presence of a person that fell short of everything the Hierarchy are made of? Does it not insult you he put an inferior impulse ahead of his brothers?"

Zephaniah turned his silver back to him.

Zephaniah restrained his hasty tongue. He felt himself beat with the rhythm of the wind, its lashings were of drums and the groaning of the land was its dweller screaming for help, Zephaniah knew he had touched the heart of the fourth anomaly and he wasn't ashamed of it. In turn his heart had been threaded past anything that he

Thought was faith and doubt pushed together, which seemed impossible.

"Come," Malachi turned back, "I shall gather the congregation we need to talk about this."

Zephaniah felt an instant remorse of his words and cast his stare towards the ground his heart grew.

"I know your soul Zephaniah." Malachi's spirit flew beyond the stormy skies.

"The elders did not let us know about the 6th anomaly?" Levia, the second anomaly, blessed with Meekness, stood centre chair to the semi circle of all anomalies in front of him.

The room was large and framed silken walls that cascaded with rippling turquoise and maroon jewels, that represented each age in which each was born and their achievements.

Each with their diadems sat eloquently, all with their majestic roles.

To levia's right, sat Micah the third anomaly, blessed with ruthlessness.

Along next to him was Malachi, the fourth anomaly that was blessed with long suffering.

To Levia's left sat Zephaniah, the first and foremost messiah that was the first to seek out the primal group of Zionists that were freed. He was blessed with ineffable wisdom. Next to him sat Nahum, the fifth anomaly that was blessed with faithfulness.

All of the anomalies had their blinding colour hidden by their long silver cloaks. Individual, colours were distinguished by the diadems on their foreheads but no one of mortal nature could ever comprehend these colours, not even the backs of them for the power possessed was enough to kill a man.

Although their, outward appearance, a profile of a man, either ebony or blonde, after their death, the recorded file was stored but never to be opened without the elders consent, and Zephaniah's.

To the right of Nahum was an empty chair meant to, be filled by the sixth anomaly, the one blessed with compassion, Neo.

Nahum, a fair individual seemed to seethe in his chair, with all intent to battle with words, on his part to build him self up in the process.

"He has left us for the greater good." Zephaniah spoke out passionately, "He will exceed us all."

"No one mentioned anything about a second coming." Micah exclaimed, his dark features angry.

"There was no need, he knew there would be such an up roar."

"The imperfect life he has taken will lead to his death. What standard of life would that possibly equate to for a Hierarchy?" he paused profusely.

"Depends on how modest he is." Zephaniah narrowed his taunting gaze and felt the others scorn him.

"Modesty?" Micah laughed with malediction, "Are we all on the same level here?" he lavished with an unsettling confidence.

"Neo is human. Time wasted on him is like tempting the end, and you know what I mean by that." Levia held his resolving head above himself.

"Remember each of you were once human." Zephaniah stood up instantaneously, pointing at each of them before tormenting laughs glazed their lips, "None of you should have forgotten that."

"Zephaniah the blessed one." Nahum taunted, "Shall we bow to your every wish? Or shall the messianic government bow to Neo's, because we all know he'll be the one to change the hierarchy, if he can reach that far."

"You talk about him like he never was one of us."

"What makes you think he is?" Nahum snapped.

"Whatever happened to being unified? Together, as one." Zephaniah felt his anger course his veins.

"I plead you Zephaniah," Levia smiled, "Your not saying Neo is more blessed than either one of us here." He laughed.

Zephaniah could never figure out Levia. That distressed him, because out of all of them, Levia was one most likely to do just about anything to wane all, good and bad on his stand.

"What I'm saying is..." Levia cut through him.

"The hierarchy aren't meant to reclaim the world." His lips lifted slightly, "We're meant to manipulate it for our own purposes."

Zephaniah creased his fore brow with confusion.

"We're meant to destroy it." Nahum foretold knowingly.

"What?"

"Zephaniah, you were the first and forthrightly most civilised of us all, don't tell me any other one, let alone a human could compare... when you couldn't even get it right."

Zephaniah stopped. How could he argue against that?

Nahum was right.

What were they all doing here, if even they, the Hierarchy couldn't change, or defeat the machinations of the two evils in the world, "Zephaniah, what makes you think Neo can?"

At this moment, only a thread of hope held him together. Even now he wasn't sure if it was hope or just existence.

"The elders think he's worthy." Zephaniah told them. His response was vague and plausible knowing that it didn't come from him, but from the counsel of the elders.

"What makes his sacrifice more worthy than ours?" Malachi heralded fiercely.

"You'll have to ask the elders that one. Only they can judge," Zephaniah sat down elegantly, "I don't trust my own speculation."

Micah felt his eyes grow sore. "Our speculation is as good as the elders, we only have one decision and that should be against him."

"Let him burn." The crowd raised their hands to each other, roaring in unison, for the sacrifice of the sixth anomaly.

* * *

After a hectic couple of months, this is the second part of the story. I'll be regularly updating and up next with the third part... but of course need your reviews! Thanks 


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